Have You Any Wool?
by Tootsie Roll 101
Summary: Upon entering Hogwarts, Rose Weasley finds herself sorted into Slytherin. She must conquer her own insecurities, and, along the way, makes unlikely friends and discovers truths about herself. She and Scorpius Malfoy must find a way to defeat the odds in a new twist to the regular Hogwarts year when everything is laid against them.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This fanfiction was written by three collaborators including myself, Fangirl Defenestrator, and eclecticfangirl99. Please note that we are seeking out a beta reader if you spot any horrifying grammar mistakes below. If that's the case, feel free to point them out in your feedback (which we do love so much). We had fun writing this (all on facebook chat initially) and hope you enjoy reading it!

Additionally, this is Scorpius and Rose in first year, so we'll have to disappoint you when it comes to immediate heated romance. ;)

**Disclaimer:** We do not own Harry Potter (as much as we might wish to). It belongs to the ever-brilliant J.K. Rowling and her crew, and we absolutely lay no claim to her fantastic imagination.

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

_Scorpius_

Scorpius strolled into the cavernous Great Hall with confident strides. "A Malfoy aura of owning Hogwarts is to be projected," his father had jokingly told him at King's Cross, "despite being a tad bit nervous." Scorpius scoffed at the thought. _Nervous? As if._ After all, it was a family tradition to keep Malfoy cool intact while others scurried in anxiety.

Sadly, no one seemed to pay him any heed. They were all either too absorbed in their own shaky nervousness or in the breathtaking Great Hall. Despite all he had seen of Malfoy Manor's grandeur, Scorpius couldn't help but look around with a bit of admiration as well.

He craned his neck to catch sight of the enchanted swirling sky above. Great banners adorning the walls equally battered for his attention, each vibrant in its promise. Tables just beneath each house symbol were full of students donned in black robes, emblems proudly stitched of the identities they had come to know. His eyes flickered across the red, blue, and yellow without elicited interest. It was the green that caught his eye, of course. Ah, yes, Slytherin. The house of real wizards: purebloods. That was where he would be sitting in a few hours time— among his rightful equals.

The thought sent a reassuring jolt through him, and a smirk quite like his father's spread across his features. There was nothing to fear. The sorting hat would be able to see he deserved Slytherin. It was his birth right, after all.

While the other first years looked about ready to soil their pants, Scorpius waited patiently in line until it was his turn. He quickly tuned out the sorting hat's song; it was useless and irrelevant. He didn't know why the hat even bothered with it.

"Adkins, Clara!" a stern, severe-looking witch announced to start the night off.

A pretty looking girl with blonde hair and gray eyes strolled up shakily, looking like she was about to be sick. The hat situated and seemed to ponder for an agonizing amount of time. Clara's eyes were squeezed shut through the entire ordeal, as if she was having a conflicting debate in her head.

Finally, "Ravenclaw!" was announced, and she was swallowed by the table of clapping blue and bronze.

A few more followed suit, each coaxing a quick response from the hat. Scorpius observed each shaking victim with amusement.

At last, it was Scorpius's turn and his confident gait did not go unnoticed by the onlookers. They knew as well as he did what the outcome would be, mutterings in the hall sounding mostly from the Gryffindor table.

He planted himself on the stool and tried not to cringe when the prospect of lice popped up in his mind. Hopefully a jinx was placed upon the hat to safeguard against such dangers. Who knew what sort the hat had the pleasure of meeting?

The sorting hat rustled his white-blonde hair as it plopped atop his head. For one tiny, minuscule fluke of a moment, he worried.

Then it passed, and the hat's taunting voice filled his ears.

"A Malfoy!" it screeched. "It's been a long time since I've been on one of your lot, you know. You're much like your father, dear boy. Ambitious, Slytherin to the core. Hints of bravery as well, of course, but..." The hat paused and Scorpius' gray eyes widened. "Ah, yes," the hat continued, apparently sensing the panic. "You're like him there too. Proud of the green, yes? Well, I'll give you what you like. You'll go in Slytherin!" The last word the hat proclaimed loudly. Judging by the cheers of the table in green, it was heard by the whole hall. Scorpius dutifully pulled off the sorting hat and set it on the stool. He made his way towards the table with a smug half-grin on his face.

A few boos and snide remarks echoed from the Gryffindor table, but it was nothing that could bother Scorpius. Not when he was already starting to live up to his potential— a real Slytherin! He kept his face blank and strode past the other tables without a second glance. Surely they were only jealous of his high standing- his talent and blood right.

Scorpius finally made it to the edge of the Slytherin table and sat at the end. A burly boy a few seats away gave him a nod of approval, and Scorpius nodded back. These were his people now.

Other first years came and went, each assigned to their respective houses. Some were excited, others less so. Unsurprisingly enough, the Potter boy was welcomed by the Gryffindor lot with whistling and stamping of feet, but Scorpius paid him no heed. One boy named Gordon Goyle, however, especially stood out to Scorpius. He was muscular, slightly intimidating, and vaguely familiar. He chose to sit in the middle of the upperclassman, interestingly enough. Scorpius made a note to speak to him later.

The remaining unsorted first years trickled down until there were only a few students left. And before he knew it, there was only one. "Weasley, Rose!" A professor called out. Scorpius had been told of the red-haired bunch- the Weasleys. The girl's parents had known his father when he was at Hogwarts himself.

Father's comments on them were typically rather vague. They obviously had a history, but he wasn't all too eager to complain about them the way one might expect of a Slytherin regarding a blood traitor. Scorpius didn't dare ask, so the fact remained a mystery.

The Weasley girl held an overall nervous but excited anticipation. She gave a dull smile of obviously feigned confidence and walked to the stool. Sitting down and taking a deep breath, the hat settled onto her head.

Gryffindor, no doubt, Scorpius guessed. It always was with the Weasleys— he had gathered that much. The girl looked somehow even more worried as she apparently listened to the hat. It was taking rather long, Scorpius marveled. Or was he simply paying more attention because he had heard of her?

Perhaps she hadn't even the ounce of bravery supposedly required for Gryffindor. Scorpius half-expected the hat to screech, "Hufflepuff!" and suspected he might laugh if it did.

The girl was tapping her feet now, possibly a nervous habit. Her eyes darted around the room; she appeared to be lost in the tellings of the hat. Finally, a crease in the cloth widened, and the booming voice rang out, sounding a bit surprised at its own proclamation. "Slytherin!"

Gasps around the hall ran out, Scorpius's among them. A Weasley in Slytherin! The girl hadn't even the good sense to look proud! In fact, her face was a mask of horror and guilt, the look a child would make when caught doing something they shouldn't.

She closed her eyes tightly for two long, agonizing seconds and then walked, irritatingly slowly, to the Slytherin table. She scanned worriedly for an open place to sit, probably one away from other people, and finding none, she sat next to Scorpius. He could help it; he scooted himself a few inches away. It was subtle, but she noticed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and looked him over before turning back to her plate.

* * *

_Rose_

Rose's heart rose up to her throat as she forced herself not to burst out crying. Slytherin. Of course. As if she wasn't already an outcast in her own family— she enjoyed reading and learning about new things, not jumping off roofs to prove how resilient she was to gravity. So, yes, something had always told her she wasn't exactly Gryffindor-material. But never, not in her wildest nightmares, did Rose picture herself at the table she sat at right now.

Rose bit her lip and ducked her head down, trying to tune out the whispers of everyone in the hall. Already she could hear rumors starting to form and circulate around the room.

Thankfully, their gossip was cut short once McGonagall rose from her seat in a regal demand for silence. The headmistress, ever the role model, was a female figurehead that Rose had always looked up to. However, when Rose snuck a glance, she couldn't help but notice McGonagall's alarmingly thin skin stretched gauntly over her cheekbones. The Headmistress was looking particularly sickly, and Rose wondered with dismay if the rumors of her swiftly approaching retirement were true.

Her eyes quickly dropped to her gleaming plate soon to be filled with food when McGonagall's piercing gaze swept over the Slytherin table. Best not to meet those eyes for fear of disappointment, especially with the epitome of a true Gryffindor… Rose swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts to pursue a magical education," McGonagall began, not at all ruffled. "However, I see the importance in placing a few ground rules so we may go off to a good start to this wonderful year I foresee."

"Auto-answer quills, invisibility cloaks," Professor McGonagall started, with a quick glance towards the Gryffindor table, "and anything from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are all forbidden. The third corridor and Forbidden Forest are both off limits, as usual, and we caution you to stay out of the old girl's lavatory."

A few snickers came from the direction of the Gryffindor table, and Rose sighed. If she was over there she would have laughed too, with a smug smile on her face due to the fact that she knew the backstory behind everything banned.

"And with that, students, I welcome you to Hogwarts. Let us delay no further from the great feast that will begin shortly." She offered a smile, taking a seat. With a wave of her hands, the gleaming plates situated at every table were soon lavished with an array of foods that normally would have coaxed an appetite never seen before out of Rose, but she found that she possessed none after what had just happened. Shame, seeing as everyone else was stuffing themselves silly.

But so as to not attract attention, Rose spooned a little bit of everything onto her plate. Mashed potatoes, lasagna, minced meat pies, pudding… and to her disgust, a pie with accusing fish heads protruding from the top. What little appetite she might have conjured up was definitely stamped out.

Students chattered all around Rose, discussing their summers and parents. It seemed most of them were pureblood families at their finest, all interconnected and knowledgeable of each other. Rose stared mostly at her food, seeing no adequate place to join in. Occasionally someone would ask her a question or two like visitors towards a foreign animal on display, but besides that, her night was full of listening to others laugh and reminisce about elite pureblood-only parties.

At last (and not a moment too soon), once trouser buttons were threatening to burst, the plates were cleared off the tables with another wave of McGonagall's hand. Rose noticed the drowsy blinks her fellow table-mates were all sporting, probably from scarfing down so much at one time. Her own state of mind was wide awake and alert from the pounding of her heart from dread, a token of the sorting that still hadn't subsided.

"I'm afraid I'll have to bring this merry night to an end." McGonagall herself seemed to have an added color in her cheeks from the feast, or perhaps that was from the wine the staff was known to sip during celebrations and on special occasions. "But it is time for us to part to make your way to your respective houses. It will be the prefects' duty to see to that. I bid you all an invigorating sleep for the classes tomorrow!" And with that, the entire hall started to rise.

Rose gulped as she let the wave of students carry her to the great doors, prefects ushering not far behind. To think she was heading towards the infamous Slytherin common room that Dad had apparently infiltrated... That was not where she had envisioned herself lounging about tonight. She recalled the hat's surprise when he read out the house name. If it was not for the flaming red hair, she wouldn't believe herself to be a Weasley at all. Even so, it would seem she had failed her family. She scanned the room for her cousins James and Albus to gauge their reaction, but soon gave up trying to discern the rowdy bunch of scarlet and gold in the distance.

Throughout the entire walk to their dormitories, the words of her father played in her mind. "If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," her father had said at the station. At the time it seemed silly, even humorous, and her mother and aunt had dismissed it with a wave of their hands, assuring her that he was kidding. But was he? Was he really?

She hardly even noticed when they came to an abrupt stop at a wall and nearly collided with a few girls who gave her vicious looks.

The Slytherin prefect informed them of the current password: snapdragon, and the entrance moved back to reveal a corridor lined with torches leading into a dark common room. Rose couldn't help but shiver when she eyed what was supposedly her "hang out" for the next seven years and spotted the disdainful taste in decorating. The room was also flooded in green light, leaving Rose to wonder what enchantment had been placed until she spotted the windows near the ceiling. It was definitely… _charming_. A bitter smile stole across her features.

The room had not taken her by surprise though, as she had already seen a picture of it in _Hogwarts, a History_. Rose couldn't help compare it to all the other common rooms based upon their illustrations, which had contrastingly appeared warm and inviting. A longing stole across her for the prospective lives she would never experience: warm talks by the crackling Gryffindor fireplace; intelligent debate by the bookshelves of Ravenclaw; merry banter in the arms of Hufflepuff house. Instead, she was to experience the coldness of the house known for its great production of dark wizards.

Rose desperately recalled her sorting to see if she had given an indication at all to seal her fate.

"Oh, so many possibilities I see," he had spoken aloud rather ponderously once nestled in her ginger curls.

Rose had bitten her lip in response and scanned the hall to distract herself from the impending verdict. The hat was silent the entire time, even when her eyes fell on Gryffindor and a bit of dread filled her at the expectations she would have to fulfill. She wasn't brave by any means, and couldn't help it when the thought crossed her mind.

That was probably the biggest mistake of her life, Rose realized with regret as she trudged into her assigned room toward a lavish bed.

The bed looked inviting at least. Slytherins were known for their indulgence. She took a seat with a sigh and promptly fell flat onto her sheets, all energy seemingly seeped out of her. Rose closed her eyes and tried to envision the newest book she had read and imagined the conversation she'd be having with her mother about it if she were here— anything to distract her from the traitorous dormitory she had never even imagined herself sleeping in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **

This fanfiction was written by three collaborators including myself, Fangirl Defenestrator, and eclecticfangirl99. Please note that we are seeking out a beta reader if you spot any horrifying grammar mistakes below. If that's the case, feel free to point them out in your feedback (which we do love so much). We had fun writing this (all on facebook chat initially) and hope you enjoy reading it!

Additionally, this is Scorpius and Rose in first year, so we'll have to disappoint you when it comes to immediate heated romance. ;)

**Disclaimer:** We do not own Harry Potter (as much as we might wish to). It belongs to the ever-brilliant J.K. Rowling and her crew, and we absolutely lay no claim to her fantastic imagination.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Rose_

A gentle mist blew against Rose's cheeks, the cold droplets of water waking her up without the intrusion and blaring of those alarm clocks that muggles used. It was a simple alarm spell that she had seen her mother use many times before. Once she had gotten her wand, she begged her parents to teach her how to perform it, and they reluctantly did so. It was an excellent introduction into learning how to use magic.

Rose sat up with a yawn. At first, she was confused about her whereabouts, but she then remembered she was at Hogwarts. The exact location within the school shortly followed, the surroundings that met her a dismal reminder of what had happened last night. She sighed and climbed out of bed. Classes were set to begin today, so she'd best eat a healthy breakfast. Maybe she could catch her cousins in the halls. Really, anyone would suffice, as long as they weren't wearing green.

Speaking of which, today was the day Rose would have to don her Slytherin robes. They were laying on the table by her bed, probably placed there by the house elves. She wondered just how long it would take for her to get scolded if she didn't wear them. Alas, it wasn't worth the risk of being noticed. She seemed to be the only ginger in Slytherin, save for a fifth year; her hair was drawing enough attention by itself.

The girl who had slept in the bed to her left already had her emerald robes on. She gazed at the little mirror on the wall with a sparkling grin on her face. Pure-blood, Rose supposed. Perhaps there was someone out there who would trade spots with her, if that was an option, and then she'd get to be in her real house— Gryffindor.

The truth of the matter, however, was that that was not an option. Never being one to waste time, Rose methodically changed into her own green attire. Just fastening the tie made a wave of betrayal wash over her. Her parents would find out about this sooner or later, and who knew how they would react?

Badly, she was sure. Strangely enough, the time she got a B+ on a muggle maths test came to mind. Rose had felt as if she had failed herself, of course, and her parents (as expected) seemed disappointed. This situation was really not all that different. Oh, how she would be the black sheep of the family now- a Weasley in Slytherin! Her uncle was Harry bloody Potter! She was tainting her family's hard-earned legacy.

There was a loud crash behind her, and Rose craned her neck around to get a glimpse of the chaos. There, on the floor, was one of her roommates, tangled up in bedsheets. She was trying to get out, but only ended up wrapping herself tighter in the blanket. There was a muffled shout underneath the cloth, and Rose felt her lips tug upward.

Rose raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "HELLO? A LITTLE HELP HERE?" a muffled voice cried out.

Rose rushed to her roommate's aid, managing to untangle the mess of bed sheets wrapped around the girl. "Listen to mother, they said. Wake up with a shock spell, they said. It's mild; it won't hurt, they said," the girl muttered.

The girl brushed herself off and stood up. She tried and failed to maintain an irritated expression. Rose offered a friendly smile (just because she was Slytherin didn't mean she had to act like a brat!). "Are you okay? What was that all about?"

Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for helping. It was just some silly spell my mum told me to use." the girl's face darkened and she scowled. "Last time I take her advice. Nearly scared the living daylights out of me. Shock spell. Highly recommend it if you want to get electrocuted." She then proceeded to remove her pajamas. "You're not the shy type, are you?"

"Er... No?"

"Perfect." The girl changed into her wizarding robes in skillfully few moments.

Her face brightened. "Anyway, the name's Dylan Prescott," she said proudly, shaking Rose's hand. "And no, that's not a boy name." She had dark brown curly hair that fell to the middle of her back and bright blue eyes.

"Rose Weasley," Rose answered, a wry smile now taking over her face. "Would you like to head to breakfast?" She tentatively tested this last part, unsure if Dylan would even accept.

Dylan gave her a once-over and then shrugged. "Sure." Rose's eyes widened. The girl actually said yes? Perhaps she had never heard of the infamous Weasley bunch. Or maybe she was simply looking past old prejudices. Neither explanation seemed likely, but Rose was grateful nonetheless. "Let's go, then."

"Right."

The girls walked outside, Dylan with distinct confidence in her stride. Rose took note of that; her roommate could be a useful asset later. Rose almost stopped walking when a thought struck her. Had she just thought of a person as an asset?

The students walked the rest of the way to the Great Hall in near silence. When they reached it, Dylan claimed a seat in the midst of the other first years. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, Rose glanced around for an empty seat. Dylan had placed herself in a spot where there were no adjacent openings. Rose wondered if her roommate was trying to lose her on purpose. She sat down diagonal to Dylan and observed how the student now next to her shifted a little in their seat. It was the Malfoy boy, just her luck.  
Rose reached for the plate filled with steaming pancakes, pretending she was oblivious of the awkwardness now surrounding her.

She was saved from having all attention trained on her when a quiet 'ahem' was heard from the doors to the Great Hall. A tall, thin, girl with icy blonde hair walked rather slowly towards their table. All eyes were on her, and the girl seemed to enjoy it. She held herself with a regal air, her posture so straight it looked as if she had an invisible brace on.

The thin girl slid in next to Rose and started to pile food onto her plate. "Good morning," she said coldly, and smiled at her fellow housemates. They were all quiet, until Dylan finally broke the ice.

"Aren't you our other roommate?"

Rose's eyes widened slightly. She had totally forgotten about the other girl when she was helping Dylan. What kind of roommate was she, not introducing herself?

But, then again, she wasn't the one who stood idly by while a girl was thrashing in bed sheets next to her.

The blonde girl looked down at Dylan and Rose, wrinkling her perfect nose a little. "Yes, unfortunately. Felicity Greengrass. And you are?"

Dylan looked disgusted. "Dylan Prescott. Though you should already know. I announced it back in the dorm." She promptly turned away, though she kept an eye trained on Rose.

Rose twisted slightly and stuck out her hand. She did her best to project a fearless aura about herself, offering a small smile. "I'm Rose Weasley," she said confidently.

Felicity eyed her hand for a moment. She seemed to grimace -or was that just a figment of Rose's imagination- before a perfectly groomed smile spread across her pale features, her hand meeting Rose's. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, though Felicity clearly expressed her twisted sense of superiority by hastily dropping Rose's hand upon contact and making a move to wipe it on her school robes.

Rose felt her face redden, the tips of her ears no doubt on fire. She had never hated her Weasley trait so much as she did now when it gave away her own insecurity.

Felicity's rebuff only encouraged Rose's stand on being invisible for the remaining breakfast, her eyes trained anywhere but her classmates. If she didn't look up, she could pretend nothing was wrong. She was merely at a dreary social event her father was obliged to go to for the ministry... Rose was just having a regular breakfast at home if she really closed her eyes and shut the world out.

Except, of course, the food here was better than Mum's, she reminded herself once her eyes were open to take in the terrible reality. And at that, she smiled sadly.

But once her own pathetic and futile attempt at self-distraction faded away, only a severe case of home-sickness remained.

Had her parents even gotten the news? She placed her fork on the table and stared miserably at her lap. _At least a howler hasn't come_, Rose reasoned with herself. Dad had related his own experience in second year one too many times, and Rose wasn't eager to recount it to her children in the future.

The laughter and incessant chatter of her classmates aggravated her as she tried to block out the world. Gossip, jokes, teasing... The Slytherin table just seemed like a nastier version of what she had pictured at the Gryffindor one, back when she was younger and blindly mislead about her eventual house.

Dylan tried to make conversation, at least, but Rose couldn't help but only give awkward answers. She hated moments like these, making people think she didn't have anything to say. It was quite the opposite, really, but in certain situations... The words just didn't come. It felt like ages before Dylan casually stood up, and Rose followed.

The two girls wandered into the hallway. "So do you remember what class we have first?" pondered Dylan. _Please_, thought Rose. She had had her schedule memorized the night she got it.

"Potions, I think." She nearly winced at her old bad habit- adding 'I think' when she was actually sure of herself. It was little insecurities like these that would get her eaten alive in Slytherin.

"So we should go get our school things, right?"

"Yes, let's hurry."

They trotted back to the dormitories and grabbed their books. "At least the potions room is close to the common room," noted Dylan.

"Yeah, I guess." That did not happen to be something Rose would have preferred, but no matter.

Rose used her best efforts not to look intimidated as they strolled into the dank potions classroom. Dylan and she took a seat at a work table in the middle of the room, glad to see they were a few moments early.

Rose couldn't help but feel a bit excited: her first real magic lesson! Potions had never been one of her parents' favorites, she knew that, but (from what she could gather) that was mostly due to a grumpy teacher.

"This is all rather exciting, isn't it? Our very first potions lesson!" Rose whispered to Dylan, eagerly watching her classmates file in.

Dylan rolled her eyes. "Sure you don't belong in Ravenclaw?" Rose ignored the jest.

Soon enough, all the students settled down. They had class with the Hufflepuffs, fortunately, and they seemed to be intimidated by their Slytherin classmates.

Luckily, Rose's long awaited first class was finally set into motion when the teacher burst through what seemed to be a hidden door. It was a man with dark brown hair and stormy gray eyes. His jaw was chiseled and his features defined, looking sort of like a statue Rose would see whenever she visited the Ministry with her parents. She heard a few of her female classmates sigh, along with Dylan. Rose rolled her eyes.

"Good morning, class. My name is George Firecrock, but you all may add a 'professor' and subtract a 'George.'" This elicited several snickers from her fellow classmates, and Rose couldn't help but smile.

The professor grinned at all of his students, as if he was formulating obscene nicknames with them. "As first years, most of you expect that you'll get babied or special treatment, at least on your first day." His easy smile disappeared. "You will not. At least, not in this class. Let's begin with roll call."

"Delia Abbott," he started. The professor rattled off the list, each student raising their hand when their name was called. He reached Rose last, his lips tugging slightly upward when he saw her name. "Rose Weasley."

Rose nervously raised her hand and was met with a reassuring smile.

The smile then disappeared as Professor Firecrock looked around the room. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Someone. Please tell me three of the required ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion," he exclaimed, leaning against his podium.

Rose looked around to see her classmates silent. Surely they knew this?

Rose quickly raised her hand. She knew this. Her father had recounted the tale endlessly when she was little, to her mother's dismay. "Fluxweed," she started. Professor Firecrock nodded with a knowing smile, as if he had expected Rose to raise her hand. She continued. "Knotgrass, and lacewings."

"Very good. 10 points to Slytherin for exceptional knowledge." He winked at Rose. This was followed by further sighs from her classmates.

"Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, knotgrass, powdered horn of a bicorn, shredded skin of a boomslang, and a part of the person you want to drink. Those are, although simple sounding, the ingredients that you need to brew the Polyjuice potion, and that's not even considering the extreme conditions of under which it must be made. However," he stopped for a dramatic pause. "I believe you all are capable of _at least attempting_ to brew one of the most challenging potions of all time that is difficult for even highly skilled wizards." Again, his eyes rested on Rose.

Rose felt herself excited for the challenge. First day, nonetheless! No doubt this class would finally offer her the difficulty she needed.

Professor Firecrock quickly began to assign partners, and Rose zoned out as she thought about the stories she had heard of her mother, who had brewed such an advanced potion in second year with no help. "The brightest witch of her age", they'd called her. She was rather brilliant, Rose acknowledged with worry. Would everyone expect that out of her too? She'd have to brew the potion to perfection, Rose decided, to show that she really was the famous Hermione Weasley's daughter.

A sigh escaped, and Rose gathered her materials, bracing herself for the name to be partnered with her own. It'd better be someone good, she thought.

"Prescott and Weasley!" Firecrock announced before quickly finishing his list.

Dylan grinned. "We don't have to move!" She slung her books behind her chair with bravado and quickly put her hair up into a effortless messy bun. Rose envied how it turned out. She had inherited her mother's uncooperative mane, although Mum assured it would get more manageable as she aged.

Rose volunteered to collect their ingredients, fearing Dylan would somehow mess it up. Seeing as she didn't know the Slytherin very well, Dylan could very well be brilliant or as thick as a doornail and Rose wouldn't know the difference. _Funny, how I'm still referring to people as "the Slytherin"_, Rose mused. _I am one myself._

Rose quickly snatched the required ingredients and spun around to get started.

She was happy to see that Dylan had already gotten the cauldron and the cutting board when she was gone. Maybe she hadn't gotten a dumb partner after all.

They quickly got to work, flipping through their crackling new textbook pages. Directions were of utmost importance, so Rose was sure to scrutinize every word closely. She almost added in five measures of fluxweed to her cauldron until she realized it read only 3.

Halfway through the class, she took the pleasure in looking around and realizing they seemed to be the furthest ahead. That is, until her eyes stopped at one table to her right.

A pale blonde head was bent down in concentration while his partner seemed to play with his jacket. Who were they again? Oh yes, Scorpius Malfoy and Atticus Zabini.

Scorpius was doing the entire project, yet his cauldron was the same shade of violet as hers. Rose's lips twitched in irritation when she realized she was wasting time assessing them. Best hurry herself up.

Dylan noticed her new urgency right away when Rose almost sliced off her finger, trying to chop quickly. "Merlin, what are you rushing for?"

Rose glared towards Scorpius's direction. "Look! They're as far as us, and the other boy isn't even doing anything!"

Dylan shrugged. "We're going the fastest we humanly can." But once she spotted Rose's expression, she soon added, "But that doesn't mean we can't hurry up." They both set back to the task at hand with renewed vigor.

To their dismay, "Finish up, everyone. We'll continue on Wednesday," rang throughout the classroom, issued far too soon from Professor Firecrock.

Rose and Dylan groaned. They began to pack up, and Rose couldn't help but glance over at the Malfoy boy's table. He was still farther than them! He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and then dropped in a few lacewings into his cauldron. The liquid turned green. He smiled in unmistakable satisfaction and then picked up his bag before walking out, instructing Zabini to tidy things up.

The little brute! Of course, Rose reminded herself not to be surprised. He was a Slytherin, and a formidable one at that, she realized with apprehension.

With an irritated sigh, Rose gathered her things and stood. She vowed to beat him next time.

"We'll get him next class," Dylan reassured upon seeing her expression. She nudged Rose with her elbow and grinned.

"Yeah," muttered Rose. She was slightly embarrassed for her investment in the little competition, but it was of no matter. She would win next time and pretend she never cared.

* * *

**Another Author's Note:** PLEASE REVIEW! :) We even like flames.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

Don't worry; we do have a plot! Reviews are greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism. Thanks so much for reading!

**Disclaimer: **We do not own Harry Potter or BBC Sherlock (which you might notice some not-so-subtle references to... What can we say? We're fangirls.).

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Rose_

It was a bright Tuesday morning, a hint of a chill creeping up on Rose's robes— a perfect day for greenhouse work. Rose and Dylan both retrieved their books from their rooms and headed off to Herbology. They both agreed that later that day they would test out their lockers to see if they were usable. The school lockers were scarcely employed by any students, as they were often unreliable. Some of the nastier ones would snap and bite at every attempt to retrieve belongings so students usually avoided them, hardly keen to get their books stuck in the blasted container yet again. Rose and Dylan had been putting it off for a few days, having decided they would prefer to keep their fingers.

Rose was highly anticipating Herbology, as her father's good friend, Neville Longbottom, taught it. But then a sense of dread washed over her. If her parents didn't already know about her new house, there was no doubt they would when Professor Longbottom told them.

Rose reluctantly followed Dylan down the grounds of Hogwarts, excited, nervous, and scared all at the same time. She had heard wonderful things about the professor from her parents, but James had often complained that Longbottom droned on and on at times when her parents weren't around.

They both took a seat, yet again, in the center of the long greenhouse. Professor Longbottom came in, and once he caught sight of Rose, he broke into a wide grin. "Good afternoon, class!" he said proudly. He strode to the head of the long table that stretched across the greenhouse and pulled on some dragonhide gloves.

"I'm Professor Longbottom," he said with a somewhat confident smile. "I'll be your Herbology teacher for your years at Hogwarts."

"Unfortunately," someone, one of her Slytherin classmates, most likely, muttered under their breath.

Professor Longbottom's smile disappeared.

Rose glanced around the room, in an attempt to see who said it. The Slytherin first years were having class with the Ravenclaw first years, yet no face looked particularly guilty.

Professor Longbottom frowned. "Er, after much pleading with Headmistress McGonagall, for the first time in a century, we have allowed first years to have hands-on activities."

The class cheered and Longbottom regained his smile. "Yes, now, er, settle down now." This was to no avail, as just as he said this, several juvenile mandrake pots came tumbling to the ground and started screaming once the soil cracked around them. Who she recognized to be Atticus Zabini sheepishly stepped away, wincing as the screeches of the plants reached his ears.

Several students fainted to the wailing of the mandrakes and three others burst into tears. Rose's ears pounded. Longbottom's eyes went wide and he went diving to a basket full of earmuffs. He started passing them out as quickly as he could. Rose received a striped scarlet and gold one (oh, the irony!) and hurriedly put it on.

Dylan, who happened to be one of the girls who had burst into tears, had calmed down once she received a pair of earmuffs. Soon enough the whole class had protection, even the ones who had passed out. Neville quickly picked up the baby mandrakes and placed silencing charms on them before transferring them into new pots. He attempted to say something, but nobody heard a word through the muffling headgear. They were all too afraid to take off their earmuffs.

Exasperated, the professor pulled out his wand and waved it. Sparks flew out of his wand, forming the words: _Take off your earmuffs now. It is perfectly safe._

No one took off their earmuffs.

He sighed and rubbed his temples for a moment, as if concentrating on something. He sent out another message: _Does anyone suffer any hearing loss or have an intense pain in their ears?_ Several students raised their hands, including Rose's other roommate, Felicity Greengrass.

Neville frowned, then waved his wand message in the air changed. _Please go to the infirmary immediately. Tell Madam Pomfrey what has happened. Go, now,_ the message read.

They all left. Professor Longbottom let out another sigh. _It's alright to take off your earmuffs! _he spelled out again. He pointed to his own ears, as if proof that it was alright. Rose was reluctantly the first to follow. After that, all of them began to shed the ear protection.

Rose glanced down at the bodies on the floor. Professor Longbottom seemed to just now see them. "Why does this always happens to me?" Rose heard him mutter under his breath.

"Any volunteers to help carry up your friends to the infirmary?" the professor asked, gesturing at the students who had passed out. Rose tentatively raised her hand. She was the only one. She could feel her classmates study her out of the corner of her eye and she felt her cheeks warm. Professor Longbottom lit up when he saw her hand and broke out into a smile.

"Thank you, Rose. Is it just you?" He glanced around the room and sighed. He sighed often, Rose noted. "Fine, I'll have to choose, then." This seemed to do the trick. A few people raised their hands and before she knew it, Rose was carrying the legs of Finnick Fumblehump, his upper torso handled by a witch named Cornelia Gunthergem. (She noticed that many pureblood families always had rather odd, old-fashioned names.)

Madam Pomfrey answered the door rather irritably, seeing as something had already gone badly wrong in the first week of school. She could already tell this specific year would frequent her more often than most when she took in the unconscious students now sprawled on the floor.

Rose looked at her own dropped cargo with dismay, massaging her arms. She couldn't help it. Finnick needed to go easy on the desserts, she thought rather meanly in her head.

Once she realized what had just passed through her thoughts, Rose's eyes widened in horror. She frowned and recalled all the other times where she had recognized shameful Slytherin traits she turned out to possess. Her common sense told her she was overreacting simply because she had actually been placed in Slytherin, but she was still ashamed nonetheless.

_The idea of a Slytherin being a bad person is stereotyping_, Rose chastised herself. And yet, stereotypes applying to yourself were never wrong, were they? Lily and she certainly made quite a few ginger jokes.

Madam Pomfrey surveyed the damage and quickly got to work, commanding the helpers to transport the patients through the doors and onto a bed. Rose quickly hefted Finnick inside the room and set him at the nearest table.

A few snores escaped from Fumblehump's mouth, but Rose's eyes didn't stray from examining the room regardless of the hustle bustle. This was the famous infirmary, where Pomfrey magically made Uncle Harry's and Dad's injuries go away. Her mom was here once too, wasn't she? She was petrified in second year.

So many people had passed before her, each one with an intimate connection to the castle in some way. Rose bit her lip at the thought that her own children would go here someday too. Hopefully she'd leave a legacy worthwhile of remembering.

"May I go now, Madame?"

The woman glanced up distractedly. "Oh! Oh, yes, dear." Rose nodded her gratitude and returned to class. One thing she was sure of: Hogwarts injuries were much more exciting than muggle-school ones (the worse she'd seen there was Albus's recurring nosebleed. He had extremely dry nostrils and the slightest scratch or movement of a bogey could set him off, and next thing you knew, there would be a flood of blood pouring out of his nose).

Rose and the few students who had came with her made their way back to the greenhouse. On the way, however, she began to notice a few students trudging back the way she had came. It would seem that the students she had helped transport to the hospital wing were only the first of Longbottom's casualties. By the time she returned, class was well underway; only about fifteen minutes remained. However, the dilemma seemed to be a lack of students and an extremely exasperated professor. Longbottom appeared on the verge of tears. "I'm decent at herbology... But these bloody first year Slytherins get me every year," he was muttering to himself.  
Rose bit her lip at the sight of the stressed teacher. He was an old family friend, and one she knew to be very brilliant, albeit a bit frazzled.

He smiled and glanced around the room with an inward sigh. Though he looked a bit reluctant to seize control, he did it just fine. With a firm clap of his hands, the students silenced themselves. Neville cleared his throat. "Uh, you all settle down now, alright? Stand on the edges, and do _not _touch anything or Mcgonagall will have your heads!"

That shut them up. An effective tactic for Longbottom, mused Rose. Throw in a few names scarier than his own, and he had power.

It was a few moments later that Longbottom dismissed the class. Dylan was still looking a bit shaken by her mandrake encounter, but followed Rose out the door as if she wasn't. Rose liked that about her, she realized.  
"Where to next, then?" Dylan sounded impatient, brushing a piece of mandrake leaf out of her glossy hair.

"Er... Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Dylan rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. That one."

Rose felt her eyebrows furrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, no offense, but it's not really a serious class is it? I mean, You-Know-Who is long gone, so what's the point anymore?"

Rose bit her lip in thought. "I don't think the dark arts stay dead very long," she mused. "Maybe if we had had some educated, capable people in power, that whole dark lord fiasco could have been avoided. The good members of the wizarding world need a decent knowledge of how to defend themselves from the dark arts or society as we know it would crumble. Besides, you never know when you might find yourself in a situation where you're facing a particularly nasty beast."

Dylan glanced up, looking irritatingly smug and indifferent to Rose's views. "Careful, Rose. Keep talking like that and people will _really _be questioning your Slytherin status."

Rose felt her cheeks turn pink. "I'm only saying the class is important. Sure, it was a bit of a joke when buffoons like Umbridge taught it, but it's going to be much different this year!"

The girls now strode into the classroom, and Dylan gave a laugh as she caught sight of the professor. "You were saying?" The two took a seat in the center of the class yet again; it was the ideal spot, after all.

Suddenly, they heard a crack of a whip and in strode a thin woman in a simple black cloak, her sleek brown hair up in a French twist. Dark red rogue was smeared across her lips.

Rose had to admit, the woman was beautiful.

She didn't seem to be holding a whip, however; the only thing in her hands was a wand. "Good morning, students," she said with a smirk. Rose glanced back down at her schedule; it was just Slytherin right now- the other houses were apparently attending other classes. It was, in fact, their first class without another house accompanying them this year. "Hopefully, many of you might also recognize me as the head of your house, Slytherin. But now I am also your Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher." She paused for a moment. For dramatic effect, perhaps?

"You may call me," she waved her wand and a piece of chalk rose from her desk and began to write on the chalkboard in an elegantly messy scrawl which she read aloud, "Professor Addler.

"I will be teaching you the basics of Defense Against the Dark Arts for your first year at Hogwarts, and if I keep this position for the next seven years, both you and I will delve into the, well, shall we say, darker parts of D.A.D.A."

Rose didn't catch if she winked or not, as the professor turned to face the chalkboard mid-maybe-wink. Dylan exchanged looks with Rose, both of them surprised yet excited about their new teacher.

It was nice to have someone young, fresh, and female. Perhaps D.A.D.A. would be Rose's favorite class, just like her father and her uncle.

"Now, I teach with a more... Practical method than some of my predecessors. If you have a problem with that, I don't really care to hear it. You can take all your boring textbooks and owl your parents to pick you up, because, children, this is how the real world works." Professor Addler eyed her silent audience, giving a knowing smile. "Now, that being said, let's get started, shall we?"

Rose felt herself nod eagerly, a determined set appearing in her jaw. She looked around the room and saw that her classmates were just as attentive.

Rose was resolved to excel in this class. Malfoy could play around with his brews, but it was Rose that would claim victory here, she was sure of it.

"Alright. Everyone take out your wands."

Rose giddily pulled out hers. It was ten-and-a-half inches long and had a smooth, cherry-like finish. It contained a dragon heartstring core and had been acquired just a few weeks before, when Rose had walked into Ollivander's old shop with her father.

"I want you all to realize just how much power you hold in your hands right now. People have killed for these, they have died for these, and they have also used them to commit such acts. What you hold now is more powerful than you could ever imagine. It is not just a stick; it is a part of you. You now need to treat it as you would an arm or leg.

"Slytherins get a lot of bad rap for being overly ambitious or 'evil.' I tell you this, because I am one, and I know you already know it. If you don't, get with the picture." Was it just her imagination, or did Rose notice the Professor looking at her?

"All of you are going to be both loved and feared. Don't hate this, use it to your advantage. And on Merlin's name himself, students, prove all of those evil Slytherin stereotypes wrong.

"Seeing as you've not even had a proper Transfiguration class yet, we'll begin with practicing basic form."

A few groans echoed across the classroom, and Addler ignored them.

"Hold your wand lightly, like so."

She raised her own for the students to see and nodded for them to do the same.

"You with the brown hair," she nodded at Dylan.

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"Dylan Prescott, Professor."

"Miss Prescott, you are holding your wand like it's the last celestial bronze weapon on earth against a herd of minotaurs."

"Huh?"

"Just loosen up, dear. You don't want to break it."

Dylan did as she said, and Rose noticed color returning to the other girl's knuckles.

Rose kept her eyes trained on Addler as I best as she could, so focused that when Addler directed an order at her, she nearly jumped out of her seat. "Ginger girl in the front row... Ms. Weasley, is it?" Addler offered a tight smile, and Rose silently cursed at being recognized yet again. "Do keep your wand pointed away from you at all times when dealing with the dark arts." Rose's eyes widened when she looked down and realized that in her concentration, her wand had slowly veered, the tip now angled that should a spell fire out, she'd be the receiver.

She quickly righted herself, although the tomato red process that followed humiliation didn't seem to dissipate.

Thankfully, Addler had already moved on after Rose satisfactorily adjusted her hand.

"Now, remember, do not place your wand in your backpocket unless it is lined with spellproof fabric. A better wizard than you have had their buttocks fried off for such a mistake."

A few giggles and snickers sounded in the classroom and rather than oppressing them, Addler offered another one of her smiles that sent the boys lighting up.

"Then where _do _we put our wands, Professor?" a boy in the front row blurted out. At realizing his imprudent mistake, his eyes widened as he seemed to grow smaller in his seat.

Addler merely rolled back her robe sleeve and showcased a slim-fitted pouch that she cleanly slid her wand into. "This, my students, is a wand holder, lined with spell proof fabric to serve its use. Some of you may have these built into your robes, although I had mine custom made."

Rose and the entire class quickly peered into their sleeves to see if they had managed to snatch such a cloak by any chance.

"Ah, I see Mr. Malfoy has come prepared." And indeed, Rose turned to see Scorpius fitting his wand snugly into its hiding place.

Another rush of irritation flushed throughout Rose at the blonde boy besting her yet again. Whereas she made an impression of being a thick-headed idiot, he was showcasing his pureblood superiority.

Malfoy met Addler's eyes boredly. "I suppose my mother happened to stumble upon it by chance."

"Astoria Greengrass, is it not? Or wait, Astoria Malfoy now." Addler's lips twitched. "Give her my regards."

Scorpius shrugged.

The rest of the class passed by with Rose, as well as many others, hanging onto Addler's every word. This woman seemed to expect every student to keep up, because she didn't reiterate at a slight lapse in attention. Rose actually enjoyed the fast pace though- she liked the snapping fashion of Addler. You could see she wasn't just a pretty face alone when she opened her mouth and offered commentary. Of course, that still didn't stop some of the boys from ogling at whatever there was to ogle at-which wasn't much, due to the fact that her black robes concealed every inch of her skin besides her hands and face.

The end of class snuck up on them and took everyone by surprise— everyone that is, except Addler. She smartly tucked her wand away up her sleeve and breezed behind her desk to straighten out the already aligned stacks of papers.

"Class is dismissed," she announced although the students were already stumbling over each other to cram out the doors. Lunch was waiting, after all.

Rose was the last to leave, seeing as she dreaded dining with her house above all things at Hogwarts. In class, she could simply pretend no one else was there except her, the instructor, and her brain to absorb the knowledge.

Perhaps she could steal away to the library? Rose chewed her bottom lip in thought. She had heard of her mother spending large amounts of time there, but she wasn't sure about the school rules yet. Was that even allowed without permission?

Lunch was, of course, very awkward in Rose's eyes. She was actually famished though, seeing as she hadn't eaten very much at breakfast, and dug in to occupy her thoughts. "The house elves are excellent cooks," Dylan said, interrupting Rose's plan to not make eye contact with anyone. She smiled and offered Rose a tantalizing chocolate chip cookie that looked quite appetizing. Her mother usually didn't allow many sweets in the house, so Rose supposed she should take her liberties given the chance and accepted with a smile.

The cookie melted in her mouth and Rose beamed. "Delicious."

Dylan grinned. "What did I tell you?"

"Of course, my mother still isn't very happy with the thought of house elves slaving away for our comfort," Rose mused. It was then that she realized that Dylan might not be so keen on Mum's idea, being a pureblooded Slytherin and all.

Dylan shrugged. "I'm pretty sure McGonagall is still paying them."

At that, a girl who was part Felicity's flock sitting nearby cut into the conversation, "—which is simply ridiculous, if you ask me."

Rose eyed her, pursing her lips. She'd like to see what this girl had to say, if she could make intelligent conversation at all.

"How so?" She maintained level eye contact, trying to give off a cool interest.

The brunette sniffed. "Look at the state of this school. Why, just last night I found a crack on the floor near my bed. The money could definitely be used elsewhere." She wrinkled her nose.

"Hogwarts is a thousand years old," Rose rebutted.

"No excuse to be shabby."

"You call THIS shabby?" Rose scoffed, gesturing at the magnificent Great Hall. Indeed, the ceiling depicting gorgeous blue skies only added to its grandeur.

The girl rolled her eyes and turned away. Dylan smirked and nudged Rose's foot with her own. The two friends grinned at each other.

Rose finished her lunch rather quickly despite having been ravenous only a few minutes earlier. However, she waited for Dylan to be done with her own lunch. "What class do we have next?" her roommate asked, wiping orange juice off her mouth with a napkin.

"Flying lessons" a boy answered. Rose whipped her head around to see a black-haired boy with crooked glasses looking up from his plate, which was filled with a half-eaten sandwich, a green apple, and some crisps.

Dylan studied the boy for a minute, and then outstretched her hand. "Dylan Prescott. Slytherin, of course." She offered a bright smile and the boy tentatively took her hand.

The boy looked as if he regretted saying anything. "Er, I'm—"

"—No wait, don't tell me." Dylan cocked her head to her right, a pondering expression on her face. "Sean McGreggory?"

He grinned. "How'd you know?"

"I have a knack for names." Dylan shrugged.

Rose eyed the two, seeing no place to jump in on the friend-making taking place, decided to nibble on another cookie instead. All the while, Sean turned his head to Dylan, and they started to engage in a conversation about whether or not the use of guns in England would affect the daily lives of wizards. Rose was grateful she was roommates with Dylan; she seemed to be a good friend and had saved her from several embarrassing situations.

Rose pulled a book out of her bag, itching to learn as much as she possibly could in between classes. It was entitled _Gagallionius's Book of Magical Spells that Every Wizard Should Know_. She quickly flipped to the introduction.

She had borrowed it from her mother and even tried to perform a spell in secret. Unfortunately, it resulted in charred eyebrows for a few days, and Rose thought it best to wait until she was a bit more experienced to try spells on her own.

But just as she started reading, the book flew off the table and nearly hit Dylan in the head.

Rose whipped around to find three rows away at the Gryffindor table, a group of boys laughing as if Professor Dumbledore had just risen from the dead and was wearing nothing but "I 3 McGonagall" underwear. Among them was Albus, who smiled apologetically at her.

Sean, who was sitting next to Dylan, picked the book up and studied it for a moment. "_Gigallionius's Book of Magical Spells that Every Wizard Should Know_," he read aloud. He smiled for a second and then handed her the book. "Er, is it an interesting read?"

"I haven't started," Rose said with gritted teeth and glared at Albus and his friends. Albus quickly turned away once he caught sight of her expression.

_Great_, Rose thought to herself, _now I've really scared him off_. She recalled Professed Addler's words. Was this really who she needed to be now? Was it who she had always been? Now she was overthinking what Albus probably took lightly, but the nagging discomfort refused to pass.

What would happen when her mum and dad found out? It dawned on Rose that it would be better if _she_ told them, rather than Albus or James or (Merlin forbid) Professor Longbottom. She resolved to write to them after school.

Seeing as she was getting nothing done now, Rose stood. "Ah, Dylan, I think I'm going to head to the owlery. I won't be long."

Dylan looked up from her crisps. "Okay, 'ure," she said, her mouth full. Rose politely nodded at the rest of the table. Sean gave her a curious look before returning to his conversation with his newfound friend.

Rose walked swiftly out of the room. She only had about ten minutes to get this done. Perhaps it would grant her some sort of closure... She could only guess how her parents would respond. At least this way she knew she would write to her parents before receiving any letters from them. That gave her the illusion of being a responsible daughter, even if it wasn't true.

Rose took careful steps into the owlery, fingering the quill and parchment that she clutched in her hand. She was now thankful she had taken her school things to lunch; it was a huge time saved.

She glanced around for a flat surface and, seeing no better option, decided on the dusty wall.

_"Dear Mum and Dad,  
Hello! I miss you both so very, very much. Hogwarts is every bit as amazing as you claimed it to be! And, Dad, you were completely right about the food– delicious (don't worry, mum, I hear the elves are being paid and they really seem to be enjoying their work)! Neville seemed a bit frazzled this morning. We worked with mandrakes... I can see what you mean now about him and stress. He's getting it together, though, and I expect the class will be incredibly useful. Our DADA and potions teacher both seem to be plenty interesting as well.  
Now, I have to admit I'm being a bit evasive. I wish so much that I could break this news to you in person, but I can't. Mum, Dad, I've been sorted into the Slytherin house.  
Please, _please _do not be angry with me. I understand that it is a house with many evildoers, and it is my greatest wish that you understand I am not one nor have I ever been and not will I ever be. Perhaps the hat is getting old, or maybe this is where I really belong. I don't know.  
Oh, and Albus got Gryffindor as you might expect, by the way. He seems to fit right in!  
Please write back soon!  
Love you!  
Rose Weasley_

Rose released a small sigh as she drew the final loop of her 'y.' She had not said nearly as much as she wished, but she hoped they would understand what she was expressing, even through her vagueness. It was her father she truly worried about. He was such a Gryffindor, and who would have expected Rose was any different?

She only hoped he would understand that she wasn't different on purpose, that she had wanted any house _but_ the one she had been given. Rose knew there were good Slytherins out there, of course. Severus Snape was a legend whose story she had been told many times. Perhaps she could be a 'good' Slytherin as well. It might not be easy, but Rose was ready for a challenge.

Anyway, Rose was glad she had gotten that over with. She had told a little white lie in her letter, though. She did _not_ wish to have faced her parents' wrath in person.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** And here comes the latest installment of "Have You Any Wool?", albeit a little later than planned. We're sorry about the delay but sincerely hope you enjoy. Feel free to point out any mistakes you see below and as always, please review!

**Disclaimer: **Our three pairs of brains (right brain, left brain, right brain, left brain, right brain, left brain) are unrivaled to Rowling's nonpareil pair, so we are evidently incapable of attempting to claim her place. Although with three brains, we should really be running from the freak show recruiters rather than her lawyers...

There are, again, some not-so-coincidental Sherlock references... The universe is rarely ever so lazy, but, hey, we are.

* * *

**_Chapter 4_**

_Rose_

The next few days of school passed without any notable occurrences, much to the grumbling of her classmates. "Nothing interesting has happened yet," several classmates had moaned at lunch while furiously attempting to finish their homework at the last minute. They had probably held some delusion of the excitement of Hogwarts before arrival, Rose judged with a roll of her eyes as she watched their panicked scrambling.

True, the only thing the first years had to show for in the first week of school _was_ a considerable amount of work, although Rose couldn't say she minded. The fascination hadn't worn off in the least as she meticulously picked at every assignment with ginger care, launching straight into it after classes were over and feeling quite productive with her twenty-six inch essays in neat handwriting.

Her light reading (though Dylan would protest otherwise) on the side only contributed to her enthusiasm. Rose had grown up amongst wizards, yet the idea that she could one day exploit the depicted powers in her texts, summon adventure with the snap of her wrist... It was a bit frightening and exhilarating at the same time. To say she was eager would have been an understatement. All of it was soaked up with a hungry curiosity.

Her teachers, she soon found, were each with their own quirks and identifying traits to make the learning a bit more interesting. She found herself easily respecting them, although she wasn't sure if they were yet to a likable point. That would have to take some time, she decided as she tracked each lesson with absorbing brown eyes, dutifully taking careful notes.

Longbottom was friendly enough, not to mention a family friend and war veteran. Yet she couldn't help but avert her eyes every time he fumbled whilst talking or dropped a plant, causing it to tumble to the ground and the rest of her class to snicker behind his back; she always felt embarrassed for him.

Addler, her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was a bit outright and off-putting, but Rose admired her fearless beauty. She seemed to challenge every student, showing no particular favoritism or patronizing intention when she talked to Rose— or anyone else for that matter— the way other adults tended to do. Selective treatment was apparently an infamous fault of the past Slytherin heads, their understandable attraction to greatness like a moth to a beam of light.

And of course, Firecrock was nice, although not really noteworthy. His good looks and suave voice seemed to to sway her peers' opinions otherwise, however.

Yet, by far the most eventful- though not at all pleasant- day of the week had to be her first transfiguration class, or rather, what had happened afterwards.

Dylan grinned as they walked through the doors of the classroom, catching Rose up on the latest rumors. "They say the professor used to be a detective," she said in a low voice, nodding towards a kindly looking man straightening papers at a desk in the corner.

"No!" Rose gasped, drawing out the '_O_' and pretending to be shocked (it was best to feign excitement from Dylan's reportings), though this did catch Rose's curiosity. She took a seat, eyeing her incoming classmates as she pulled out a quill and some parchment for notes.

Dylan's lips tugged satisfactorily upon piquing Rose's interest, but she withheld more information until she confirmed Rose's eyes were on her once again. "In fact, the ministry had to step in because this mysterious detective was gaining popularity, attracting the attention of the muggles." Rose envisioned him in a magnifying glass and trenchcoat like any stereotypical detective with a wayward glance and cracked a smile.

"He was pretty good at hiding though," Dylan continued. "Disguised himself and whatnot to reveal answers to cases with his extraordinary skill in transfiguration. When the ministry asked him to lay low for a while as to not attract more attention, he applied for the transfiguration position at Hogwarts."

Rose drummed her fingers on the desk. "These professors are all so... mysterious." She offered a smile. "But are you sure he's really a detective? Looks more like a librarian, if you ask me."

Though Rose wasn't complaining, seeing as she adored libraries and everything to do with them, including the people who worked there.

Dylan shrugged. "Just rumors. But he's head of Gryffindor house, and that lot can sometimes be very... different."

Rose refrained from pointing out that Slytherin was clearly the black sheep of the merry foursome, with its own special line of dark wizards and notorious reputation.

"I suppose," was all she said to Dylan, quickly righting her posture to an attentive one. The professor had just begun attendance, and Rose fiercely desired to make a good impression. She would not stumble through all her classes like some concussed idiot like she did in the previous.

At last, "Weasley" sounded in a clipped voice, and Rose offered a bright smile. "Present!"

Dylan coughed beside her, the phrase 'teacher's pet' clearly audible but well disguised within the familiar sign of a cold. Rose flushed, but had to admit she was being rather obvious.

Surprisingly, her teacher actually thoroughly introduced himself, or at least attempted to— a first for the classes she had so far. Rose couldn't help but get the impression he was rather nervous, which was justifiable with the poor man having never taught before. "Er... My name is Jonathan Watsun." His forehead crinkled, mouth set.

"This is my first year of teaching, stepping in for Professor Alperden who has decided to retreat into a peaceful retirement. Er... I was a healer and also have some experience with fighting for the Afghan Order of the Phoenix during Voldemort's return."

More awkward facts about Watsun were presented before the poor man gave up and tried to transition into class. Rose was disappointed there was no mention of his alleged detective work.

Class was a little ways in until he began to quiz for basics. _Elementary questions, really,_ Rose thought. When he had asked for the most basic principle of transfiguration, Rose's hand shot up quick as a beam of light—

"Transfiguration is merely deceiving the beholder and warping appearances. The best transformations will only be executed if the transfigurer has even convinced herself or himself the guise is true- momentarily, of course."

—Or when Watsun asked about the duration of spells:

"Nothing is permanent," Rose had answered authoritatively. "The duration depends on how varied the disguise is from the original. If I were to become a boy, for example, my spell would be greatly short-lived compared to say, changing my hair blue."

Rose was rather satisfied when she managed to answer the majority of the questions concerning the concept of transfiguration, earning forty points as a result. A few mutters came from the Gryffindors whenever she raised her hand, but in her defense, no one had taken Watsun up on the offer. If people had simply read the transfiguration textbook and raised their hands, perhaps the classroom wouldn't be as still and silent as it was when Watsun assessed their knowledge.

"A most excellent demonstration by..." Watsun offered a pleased smile and nodded in Rose's direction.

"Rose Weasley. _Slytherin_, if you didn't know," Albus muttered loudly for her, earning laughter from his already chummy pals. Rose felt a flicker of irritation and embarrassment, but it quickly subsided.

"Miss Weasley," Watsun echoed, seemingly oblivious to the scene before him.

Rose blushed and could vividly envision the tomato-red blotches forming on her cheeks. She silently cursed her misfortunate genes when she felt warmth stealing across her features for what seemed like the tenth time that day. "Thank you," she replied, fortunately finding her voice not as squeaky as she feared.

She felt a burst of pride in her chest, despite her cousin's antics. Rose turned around and scanned the room for... _there_. She was, however, met with disappointment. Malfoy didn't even seem affected by her performance, his eyes intently trained upon Watsun's movements. Rose sheepishly smiled to herself at this entirely one-way competition. It was rather silly, but she still found joy at besting her imaginary rival. Whether Malfoy knew it or not, he had been beaten.

Watsun cleared his throat. "Now, who can tell me some forms of human transformation?"

Rose felt her hand lift again. Watsun glanced around the room as if looking for other volunteers, but happily settled for her in the end.

"An animagus is a witch or wizard who can change themselves into the form of an animal at will. A metamorphmagus can change their humanoid appearance as they please. A werewolf transforms into their traditionally beast-like form on a full moon whether they want to or not."

"Ah, maybe a _bit_ more information than was required, but a very accurate answer nonetheless."

Rose's cheeks burned.

"Another ten points to Slytherin, I believe."

A quiet— but completely audible— groan was heard from the opposite side of the room. Rose was not surprised to find it was uttered by none other than Albus. He glared at her when they made eye contact and then muttered something to one of his friends. A depressingly large number of the Gryffindors laughed, and Rose struggled to maintain a firm posture.

The rest of the class went similarly. Watsun would pose a question, Rose would answer, and Albus would grumble. Rose didn't appreciate the immature reactions of her peers, but she wasn't going to stop contributing to class discussion as a result! It was their own fault if something this pathetic made them angry.

When the professor dismissed them, Albus strolled over to Rose in his typical swagger.

"What in Merlin's beard was that, Rose?" he demanded.

"Good afternoon to you too, Albus," she said coolly. "If you are referring to my stand alone participation in class, I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'being a student.'"

Albus's glare deepened. "You know exactly what I mean. Why are you helping them? You're practically betraying our family!"

Rose's eyes narrowed."What are you talking about? I'm just answering questions- it's not my fault I'm earning points for my house and you aren't! Whether you and I like it or not, I'm in Slytherin now."

"And you're pleased about that?"

"It doesn't matter how I feel about it! It's out of my control!" Rose argued, frustration bubbling up. It pulled at her defenses, creating a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

If Albus felt any ounce of sympathy for her, he did not show it. "Oh, yeah right," Albus rolled his eyes. "Rose, you and I both know that isn't true."

This threw her off a bit. "Of course it is. I put on the hat; the hat yelled my house."

"No, you're wrong. Your _uncle_ told me himself. The hat only puts you in Slytherin if you want it to."

"I— What? You mean your dad?"

"Yes. The sorting hat thought about putting him in _your_ house too. He just had the good sense to say no— and he had only known about the wizarding world for a week!"

Rose could not conjure a witty comeback, and she was frustrated to feel tears prickling behind her eyes. She hadn't wanted Slytherin, had she?

Rose exhaled in a huff. She couldn't show that she had let him get to her. She grasped at something to say. "Well, I think you've made your point, Albus. I'm just an evil Slytherin, probably don't even qualify as your cousin, huh? Well, this 'traitor' needs to get to class. I suggest you do the same."

Her voice cracked like a pubescent boy on that last word, and she turned before he could see the fat drops of water rolling down on her face.

Rose's eyelids clenched closed to fight off more tears as she maneuvered through the thick current of students between her "traitor" self and Charms. Honestly, Albus of all people should have understood. James had endlessly taunted him before school started that he would be landed in Slytherin, and Rose could tell Albus had been really uncertain on the matter. And now that he was safely in Gryffindor and Rose was in the snakes' den…

How had their roles been reversed so easily?

Fiery red hair, after all, Rose thought bitterly, was oddly misplaced in the Slytherin green. Albus's green eyes would have been a worthy possession for Salazar.

And did he actually suggest -accuse- her of desiring Slytherin? Oh yes, she had definitely requested the shabby old hat to grant her a life of shunning from her family, left as a pariah for being the first Weasley in Slytherin. Why, they could even scorch her off the family tree like the pureblood families were notoriously known for, she added with venom.

She bit her lip and collided rather heavily with a passing girl. Mumbling a 'sorry', Rose quickened her pace so she wouldn't have to face the suffocating swirl of students around her. Classes were her refuge because no one could talk directly to her when the teacher was speaking, Rose thought grimly.

At least then she was in control, her house merely the receiver of the points she would vie for.


End file.
